


could you love this?

by chaosbumblebee



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosbumblebee/pseuds/chaosbumblebee
Summary: finnian maximiliano iglesias. captain of the football team. most popular guy in school. everyone (EVERYONE) is vying for a chance to get with him.finnian maximilano iglesias. immigrant. adopted. living with debilitating anxiety that keeps him from sleeping almost every night.scorpio alexander (jisun) roman. exchange student from london. dad is the 10th richest person in the world. incredible artist with an show-stopping voice that would make anyone swoon.scorpio alexander (jisun) roman. broken. depressed. dealing with the weight of his past, present, and future turning him black and blue, leaving neat scars on his wrists.when their lives cross paths at a prestigious private high school in upstate new york, they both know that they will never be the same.but will they change for better, or for worse?(in the end, does it really matter?)
Relationships: dominik/atlas (domlas), finnian/scorpio (scorpian), serahill/amaya (amera)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

-finnian-

Alright, so maybe sitting outside the dean's office with a bloody nose and split knuckles isn't the best way to start off your junior year. I mean, it's not like he didn't have it coming. Like, if you _know_ Jessica is insecure about her hobbies, don't make fun of them. Jeez.

...In hindsight, decking the kid was probably not the best option.

I come to this revelation just as the dean opens the door to her office, sighing as she waves me in. I sit down in the chair opposite to her, and she fixes me with a tired stare, her warm, brown eyes dripping in what can only be described as "disappointed, but not surprised."

She pinches the bridge of her nose with another sigh (which seems a bit excessive). "Finnian. Sweetheart. It is the _third_ day of school. Would you care to explain how you've already started a fist fight?"

I shrink under her gaze. "He, uh, made fun of Jess a little..."

"He made fun of Jess a little. Mm. So you decided to punch him?"

"Not my proudest moment," I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck.

"I'd hope not." She shakes her head, methodically moving her tight, dark umber braid over her shoulder. "You're better than this, Finnian. Two weeks detention and a five page handwritten reflection due Friday."

"But-"

"And-" she says sharply, cutting me off- "you're getting a roommate." A pause for emphasis. "Today."

"But moooooooom-" I groan, perhaps a bit overdramatically as I let my head fall over the back of the chair.

"No buts, _mijo._ You're lucky that that's all you're getting. We had a deal, remember?"

"No bad behavior for the first semester and I get to keep my single room," I mumble, eyes downcast.

"Mmhm. You can go." She stops me with a gentle hand on my arm when I'm about to open the door. "But honey, you have to stop this. This isn't the Finnian I know."

I sigh, turning to look at her. "I know, _mamá._ I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just be better." I nod, and she presses a kiss to my cheek before ushering me out. "And see the nurse!"

A sigh escapes me as she shuts the door, and I pass by the nurse's office, opting for grabbing a dozen or so tissues on the way out instead.

Walking through the beautiful sunlit halls, I'm suddenly hit with a memory.

7th grade, back when I was a small, scrawny, the-mere-thought-of-PE-terrifies-me, barely-hit-puberty kinda kid. A rare outdoor lunch break. Around the corner, where no teachers could see us.  
I'm on the ground, jaw throbbing, vision split in two. I can taste blood. A boy a grade ahead stands over me, rictus grin splitting his familiar, pale face. He spits a word at me, and even through the fog of my ringing ears, I hear it clear as day. _Fag._

Maybe I'm not the smartest, but I know enough to understand what that means.

And somehow, it hurts more than my broken tooth.

I shake my head, effectively shaking away the obviously repressed memory. _Shit._ At least now I know I had an actual reason to punch the lights out of the guy, however subconscious and unrelated it was. What an asshole.

Shaking my head again, I open the massive mahogany doors of the Main Hall and walk into the large Central Courtyard, usually just called the Center. Mid-afternoon sunlight floods the area, highlighting the trees whose leaves haven't quite turned the fiery shades of fall, the marble benches lining seemingly ancient cobblestone paths leading to the large statue of the one-and-only revolutionary Marquis de Lafayette (the school's namesake), and the various students scattered about, chatting or studying or occasionally making out, to which I say, _get a room._

I flop down on a bench and focus back on wiping away the blood that had dripped down to my chin and holding a handful of tissues against my nose as I wipe off my similarly bloody knuckles.

The other guy's in worse shape than I am, but not by much. He put up a surprisingly good fight. I hadn't actually expected a _fight,_ I just wanted to shake him up and get him to stop being such an ass, but then he punched me back and my pride wouldn't let me leave. I managed to land a few good hits on him before a few teachers came and broke us up. He was still kicking and fighting even as a teacher I don't recognize held him back. (Heh. Guess he's never been in a fight before; you get in way more trouble if you try to fight against the teachers.) I shrugged whoever was holding my arms off and made my own way to the main building. The teacher that was tailing me left me alone once I got there. _Path of least resistance._

I'd be lying if I said I didn't like fighting. Well, fighting for a _reason._ I don't fight just to fight, I fight because someone needs to get knocked down a peg. Like when I almost broke a guy's nose because he called my little brother a tranny, or the time when another guy told a girl wearing a headscarf to go back to her country, or the _other_ time when- well, you get the point. Fighting's in my blood, I swear. It's like I was born and the universe said "Yup, this kid's gonna be a fighter." I guess * _someone_ * has to be.

I get up to head back to my dorm, resisting the urge to stare at the clouds so I don't get a blood clot and die. It really is beautiful here; I find myself gazing at each building I pass, the old, intricate architecture still enthralling me even though I'm heading into my third year at this school. I can see the Edison building from here, standing tall and proud. The Edison dorms are the best (huge rooms, actually really comfortable beds, _individual bathrooms_ ), so I'm one of the lucky ones. The other dorms are still being renovated ever so slowly.

My revere is interrupted as I'm pushed out of the way by a group of boys completely oblivious to their surroundings. I almost say something, until I hear one of them say "new kid" and "flag pin" followed by an almost comically evil snicker. I take a quick scan of their faces and sigh; they're a group of class-A, rich, bigoted assholes. Whoever this new kid is, they're about to get jumped.

Yeah, no. Not on my watch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> london boy makes his entrance.

-scorpio-

New school. New people. New bed. New _country_. Not the most favourable of situations, but hey, being an ocean away from my father is worth it.

I'm heading to my dorm after meeting the dean, who's an ungodly level of sweet, I swear, definitely not what I'd expect from the dean of a private school. All of my stuff is still in my car, totally because I've been too busy to actually unpack and not because I'm procrastinating or anything.

Just as I lose myself in the thought of having to somehow extract the basically vacuum-packed things from my three (four? two? I lost track) suitcases, I'm rudely interrupted by someone slinging their arm around my shoulder.

"What the f-"

"Sh."

"Uh-"

" _Sh_. Four dudes around the corner are gonna try to jump you."

"What?!" I shift, turning to look at the guy who's got my shoulders in an iron grip. I take a quick analysis of him; he's black, long hair, taller than me (which is saying something, considering I'm 188 centimeters, which according to good ol' Google is 6'2"), varsity jacket with a copious amount of patches, and under said jacket, he looks like he's built like a goddamn _ox_.

I decide that if I am actually about to get jumped, having a 6'4" buff person with me wouldn't be the worst idea.

He whispers, "This corner here. Quick, pretend I said something funny." He looks at me with a smirk that entirely embodies someone who just told the worst joke in existence, and I offer an ever-so-slightly exaggerated but believable laugh, silently thanking the years of taking the lead in theater. Sure enough, just as we pass the corner, I see a group of atypical frat boys (pastel polos, freshly starched baby blue shorts, the exact same freaking haircut that every frat boy in existence has) staring us down, wearing the ever distinct I'm-an-entitled-white-boy-who-didn't-get-what-he-wanted look.

Buff dude gives them a withering look as he passes, and they glare back before stalking away. Once he's apparently sure they're gone, he lets go of me, and I step awkwardly away.

"Sorry about that." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're new, right?"

I nod. "Uh, yeah."

He opens his other hand, revealing my bi flag pin that was on my backpack two minutes ago sitting in it. "I'd keep this hidden. Most people are chill here, but, uh, some... aren't."

"How did you-"

"Don't worry about it." He hands it back to me, and I shove it in my pocket.

"Thanks for looking out for me..." I trail off, realizing I don't know his name.

"Finnian." He holds his hand out for me to shake it with a surprisingly warm smile, and I take it.

"Scorpio." He snorts, and I keep going. "Before you ask, yes, I was named after my Zodiac sign, yes, it sucks, yes, my father makes terrible parenting decisions. If you can come up with a more original joke, I'm all ears." (I've had that monologue committed to memory since 8th grade; I'm quite proud of it.)

He laughs, just as warm as his smile. "Duly noted. Can I call you Scorp?"

"Sure?"

"Chill. So, where you heading?" He says as we start to walk again.

"My dorm. I still haven't moved my stuff in yet." I pause, and he looks at me expectantly. "Oh! Edison-" I pause to look at my phone screen to make sure I get the number right- "154."

He blinks. "That's my room."

Wow. Freak coincidence. "Well. Guess you're my roommate."

"Guess so."

...

...

...

"God, I hate awkward silence," Finnian says, making me laugh.

"Who doesn't?"

"Then let's talk. I mean, if you're gonna be my roommate, we should probably get to know each other."

I shrug. "How do you propose we do that?"

"20 questions, obviously."

"I haven't played that since like sixth grade ish?"

"All the more reason to play! I'll start. What's your full name?"

"Scorpio Alexander Jisun," I say. The lie of my last name comes to my lips as easily as breathing. "You?"

"Finnian Maximilano Iglesias."

"That's a badass name, not gonna lie. It makes you sound like a movie character."

He grins. "Thanks. Your turn.

"I asked a question!"

"Returning the question isn't a question!"

"Who says?"

"I do." He smirks.

"Can't argue with that," I snort. "Alright. Hm. Favorite color?"

"Lameeeee."

"Hey, it's a question!"

"Fine. Red. You?"

"Blue."

This goes on for some time, and I learn that he has two siblings, (a brother, Dominik-with-a-k, who's a freshman, and a sister, Sera-with-an-e, who's a senior), he's the captain of the football _and_ basketball teams (unsurprisingly), and that he has a golden retriever (named Hozier for undisclosed reasons) and a black cat (named Echo because "echolocation because bats because cats rhymes with bats, y'know?").

I told him that I don't have siblings (a lie), I'm in choir and theater (truths), and I've been in gymnastics since I was five (truth, mostly, conveniently ignoring ages eight and nine).

Before we know it, we're suddenly in the parking lot.

"I need to get my stuff out of my car, one sec," I say.

"Need help?"

"Yeah, thanks."

We wind through the lot until we reach my car.

Finnian lets out a low whistle. " _This_ is your car?" I resist the urge to say _one of them_ (this is the least expensive one, actually), and instead simply offer a shrug and pop the trunk of the sleek black Cadillac that was the first birthday present I've received directly from my father since I was 12. (Shit. Four suitcases.) I grab two, struggling slightly to get them out, and he grabs the others as if they were piles of feathers. "You got it?" He asks.

"I'm good," I say, finally getting the suitcases on the ground.

We make it to the room and he unlocks the door, swinging it open. I haven't seen it yet, but this is definitely _not_ what I expected. It's _nice_ ; real, solid wood furniture, hardwood floors, pleasant, light gray walls, and a large window at the back of the room in between the two substantial beds. Two identical desks sit at opposite sides of the room, as well as two mirrors, two small bookshelves, two dressers, two wardrobes, and two nightstands. A door to the right leads into what looks like a bathroom, and there's a mini-fridge with a microwave on top of it next to the hall door.

Finnian sets the suitcases he's carrying down and hurries to clear off the left side of the room that's apparently mine. "Sorry about the mess, I haven't had a roommate since freshman year." He offers me a sheepish smile, and I offer him a small one in return, pretending I know what the hell a 'freshman' is.

"'S fine." I toss down the other two suitcases and set to unpacking. I start methodically taking out each piece of clothing, refolding it, and placing it in a drawer. I can hear Finnian playing some sort of game on his phone in the background as I finish up unpacking my clothes and move to put the sheets on the bed. I struggle with the fitted sheet for roughly five minutes before I hear a snort from behind me.

"Need some help?"

" _Yes_." I hadn't meant to come off like I don't know how to put a sheet on a bed because I _totally_ know how to put a sheet on a bed (no I don't), but hey, at least he's helping. He comes over and suppresses another laugh.

"Scorp. Dude. It's backward."

"What?"

"Here, it goes-" he reaches over me and twists the sheet around so the edges line up to where they're apparently supposed to be- "like this." 

"Oh," I say, feeling my cheeks start to warm for exactly three reasons: one, because I blush more than a bloody fanfiction character, two, because I feel like an idiot, and three, because Finnian is entirely too close for comfort for an objectively attractive person who is basically a stranger. He seems to get the third point and steps back with an embarrassed cough.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Fitted sheets are tricky."

We start to lapse into another awkward silence before I realize I left my entire bag of art supplies, my guitar, _and_ my darling ukulele that I've had since I was ten in my car. " _Shit_."

"What?" Finn asks, watching me head out the door.

"I need the rest of my stuff!"

"You have _more_ stuff?"

"Shush!" I yell before running to the car, somehow positioning a ridiculously massive backpack and guitar on my back and grabbing my uke. I sprint back to the room, where the door is still open, and basically throw everything on my bed.

"Is that a guitar?" Finnian asks, leaning over my shoulder.

"Mmhm."

"And a... small... guitar?"

"A ukulele." He lets out a tiny laugh. "That ukulele is my _child_ , don't you dare make fun of him."

" _Him_?" He says, starting to laugh more

"I was ten, and thought everything deserved a name, okay?"

"You _named_ your _ukulele_?" He's really laughing now, and I playfully shove him back.

"I was _ten_!" I protest, also starting to laugh.

"Well, what's his name?" He asks, falling back onto his bed.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm already laughing, though."

"Well, don't laugh more."

"Fine, whatever."

"...Alejandro." He promptly loses his shit, and I throw a stray pillow that was on the floor at him. "You said you wouldn't laugh, asshole!"

He bats the pillow away, still laughing. "Alejandro? Seriously?"

I take a mental note of his impeccable accent when he says Alejandro, then refocus on defending my must-name-everything antics. "Y'know, like the Lady Gaga song."

"Oh my _God_." He's laughing even harder, and I throw my pillow at him.

"Stop that!"

He catches the pillow (football reflexes, probably) and hugs it to his chest. "This is my pillow now."

"Um, no it is not. Give it back."

"No! You were being rude!" He sticks his tongue out at me like a child, and I suppress a laugh.

"You were being rude first!"

"You named your ukulele after a Lady Gaga song! How the hell was I supposed to _not_ laugh?"

Our conversation dissolves into the sort of mildly-deranged laughter that should only exist at four in the morning with your best friend, not four in the afternoon with a guy you literally met an hour ago, but hey. Whatever works.

Once we've finally stopped laughing like the Joker himself, he turns to grin at me from his bed. "I think we're gonna get along just fine, Scorpio."

I can't help but grin back; his megawatt smile is just too damn infectious. "That we are."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> school time oh boy

-finnian-

Here's a list of ten things I know about my roommate:

1) His name is Scorpio Alexander Jisun.

2) He's British, obviously, and apparently half Korean, which I slightly pity him for because when the grossly fetishy Koreaboos here find out, he's literally going to be killed in their attempt to fuck him.

3) He can play the guitar, ukulele, piano, violin, cello, and bass. What the hell. Said ukulele is named Alejandro, which I still can't get over, and said guitar is named Mercury after Freddy Mercury because he has great music taste and loves Queen. 

4) We have our first three classes plus homeroom _and_ lunch together, which he was extremely grateful for when he found out.

5) He's in choir and musical theater, so allegedly, he can sing.

6) He's an artist, and when I say he's an artist, I mean he's an _artist_. He showed me his art Instagram (which has TWENTY THOUSAND however well deserved FOLLOWERS WHAT THE HELL, I thought my 700 was a lot), and every piece is fucking incredible. They range from hyper-exaggerated cartoons to artfully stylized realism, and I swear every drawing would put Michelangelo himself to shame.

7) He _loves_ strawberry Starbursts, as in, he literally would kill a man for a box filled with only strawberry Starbursts.

8) He's easily flustered, which I am totally not going to take advantage of by flirting with him constantly because it's amusing how easily he blushes I don't know what you're talking about.

9) He's cute.

10) And I'm going to safely assume he's bi.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Finnian, do you just flirt with everyone who's slightly attractive to you?" To which I say, "No, that's ridiculous! I only flirt with everyone who lets me. There's a difference."

Sidenote, I should probably stop flirting with primarily girls considering I am very much not attracted to girls and sometimes they don't get the message that I'm joking, but then I'd have to start coming out to people other than my siblings and I would rather cut off all of my limbs sans anesthesia than do that.

Anywho, I'm writing down this list on a sheet of loose leaf in first period, U.S. History, when Scorpio walks in and is immediately seized by Mrs. Henson.

"Ah, you must be the new exchange student!" She says, slightly louder than necessary, and his face turns bright red. "Scorpio, is it? Everyone, give Scorpio a warm welcome."

"Hi, Scorpio," the class drones in uninterested unison, and he locks eyes with me, mouthing 'please help.'

Just as Henson is about to make Scorpio tell everyone what he did over the summer, I say, "Ma'am, I think he'd like to sit down now," earning a ripple of laughter through the classroom.

She turns and notices Scorpio has now turned into something resembling a disgruntled tomato, and gives a small start. "Oh! Well. Alright, then."

Scorp sinks into the seat next to me, murmuring, "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Finnian, could you get a textbook for Scorpio?" Henson asks, and I nod, grabbing a terrifyingly large book from the cabinet in the back of the class and handing it to him. He stares at it in what I can only describe as disgust mixed with… fear?

Haha. Same.

As she starts to talk about behavior expectations, I zone out completely until Scorpio whispers, "Why are, like, seven people staring at me?"

"My best guess is either because you're new, because you're an exchange student, or because you're sitting next to me."

His expression turns confused. "Why would they be staring at me because of you?"

"I'm kinda popular or whatever, y'know, football and being the dean's kid and all, and people think that I'm untouchable because of that for some reason, so it's a _'big deal'_ -" I put 'big deal' in annoyed air quotes- "that you're _'good enough'_ -" more air quotes- "to sit next to me." This is a slight lie; I've been told on several occasions that I'm the most popular guy in school, which is a title that makes me more embarrassed than anything, so I'll try to hide said title from my roommate for as long as I can.

Scorpio lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, okay. Guess that makes sense."

Class goes by quickly, and I tuck the course overview and The List into my binder before heading to physics, Scorpio at my side. I pass by various friends of mine, mostly guys on the football team, that all greet me with the customary handshake-high-five-bro-hug thing, Scorpio laughing every time it happens, and I introduce him as my roommate and return his laughter as he awkwardly accepts each fist bump from said football bros.

We snag two seats in the middle of the class just as the bell rings, and luckily for Scorp, he doesn't get pulled up to the front of the class to introduce himself. I have to resist laying my head down on my desk the second Mr. Kolak starts talking. I. Hate. Physics. _Hate_ it. Science and I absolutely do _not_ get along. I'll stick with anything to do with language, thank you very much. I will say, though, seeing Scorpio's eyes light up literally every time Kolak says anything makes the class slightly more bearable. (Very, _very_ slightly.)

I practically run out of my seat the second the dismissal bell rings, Scorpio tailing behind me. 

"Not a science kid, huh?" He teases, a small smirk on his lips.

"Hell no," I say, shaking my head. 

He snorts. "I figured. You looked like you were ready to kill someone."

"Completely unrelated, do you know who discovered physics? Also, do you have a time machine?" I say, and he lets out a tiny laugh.

"Finnian, you can't kill Galileo."

"I just wanna talk!"

He laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sure you do."

I elbow him, and he elbows me back _right_ in that specific spot that makes me let out a giggle that sounds like it belongs to a fucking eight year old.

"Finn, are you _ticklish_?" Scorpio gasps theatrically, hand splayed over his heart.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" I'm slightly bothered by the fact that it _didn't_ bother me when he called me Finn. I don't let anyone call me that (well, anymore, at least).

"Not one bit." He grins. "Also, I'm totally going to take advantage of this newfound information."

I sigh. "Thanks for the warning. And I'm going to assume you don't have gym clothes?"

"Oh, f- crap." His shoulders slump. "No."

"You can borrow some of mine, if you want," I offer, and he flushes.

"No, it's okay! I can just- run into town or something… later… Uh, Finnian?" He trails off, staring at something directly in front of us. I turn, and-

Oh, _fuck._


End file.
